


Pillow Talk

by Xingshou



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cute, F/F, Fluff, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Referenced cannibalism, Tags May Change, Toxic Relationships, one sided ValDust, radiodust - Freeform, referenced mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xingshou/pseuds/Xingshou
Summary: A series of standalone one-shots centered around conversations the various couples of Hazbin have while together in their bedrooms. Some angst, some fluff, some just havin' a good time. Generally planned to be updated once a week.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Client, Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Stella Goetia/Stolas Goetia, Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 60





	1. Angel and Valentino

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small idea I had for a collection of one-shots featuring the Hazbin couples having conversations (or post sexy-times) in their bedrooms. I plan to update one couple per week - none of them connect to each other story-wise so if you just wanna read one couple or so that's fine!
> 
> This particular chapter features a lot of one-sided ValDust, so if that ain't your thang, no problem, wait for the next chapter which will be a different couple and much more fluffy and way less toxic. Val isn't doing anything more creepy than he usually does in this particular one-shot but I still feel it necessary to give a warning just in case.

The fingers of Angel’s lower hands clenched into the bedsheets as he felt the bed dip when Val stood up. His ears pricked up, trying to hear if Val was just stretching or if he was done or coming back for more or what. 

Angel hated being blindfolded – he charged triple if a client requested it in an attempt to discourage them from it, and he was usually able to distract them with other things, but Val… well, Val always got what he wanted. 

He tried not to visibly tense up too much as the click of Valentino’s heels came closer, blinking in the dim light as Val finally pulled the blindfold off. 

“Hey, daddy,” he grinned, trying to play off his tenseness. “Good ta see ya.” 

Val snorted a half-laugh, and Angel took that as permission to sit up, dragging the blankets up for warmth. 

They were in his room at the studio. He’d had a late night shoot and there was supposed to be some kind of PR interview or some shit in the morning, so it had just made sense to stay. Angel had been hoping to actually get some rest, but Valentino had apparently had other ideas. 

“Angel…” Val started, and Angel cocked his head, waiting for whatever beratement or nonsense was going to come out of the moth’s mouth this time, but surprisingly, Val just shook his head, apparently thinking better of whatever it was he had been about to say. “Nevermind. Get dressed. I got somethin’ for ya.” 

Angel frowned as he slid off the bed to pick up his discarded clothes. Now that was unusual – Val was usually yelling at him to get undressed, not the opposite. 

“Er… Val? You okay? You sick or somethin’?” Angel checked. 

“I’m fine. Just hurry the fuck up already.” 

Ah. There was the Valentino he was more familiar with. 

He shimmied back into his skirt, pulling his jacket on and straightening it out before fluffing up his hair a bit, sitting back on the end of the bed and watching Val expectantly. He definitely wasn’t expecting Val to jam a velvet box into his hands. 

“It’s for you. Open it.” 

Gifts from Valentino were common. Jewelry, clothes, underthings, things to be worn on camera, makeup – but the necklace that greeted Angel Dust when he opened the box was on a whole other level. 

An understated, delicate gold chain glittered out at him. At first it didn’t look like much, but when he lifted it out, he could see tiny, multicolored gemstones embedded into each link, shifting colors in the dim light. It was gorgeous, and completely outside the realm of taste Valentino usually had, to the point where Angel had to wonder if he’d hired someone else to pick it out. 

“Geez, Val, it’s – “ 

“Here.” Val snatched the chain out of Angel’s hands, carefully clasping it around his throat. Angel looked down, putting a hand to it, watching as it sparkled against his white fur. “You like it?” 

Angel nodded, his guard starting to go up. Just what was going on here? 

Val sat down on the bed next to him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up. He offered one to Angel, which the spider took. He might as well have some kind of hit for whatever nonsense Valentino was planning. 

“I wanted to talk to you about somethin’, Angie.” 

Angel winced. Angel, Angel-Cakes, whore, slut, idiot – he was used to Val calling him those things. _Angie_ seemed so personal, so friendly. Cherri called him that. He really didn’t like Val calling him that. 

“…Yeah? What?” He slowly reached for a bottle of water he’d had the foresight to stash under his bed a couple days ago, silently thanking past-Angel for thinking of that as he unscrewed the top and took a sip. 

“I think we should date. For real.” 

Angel spat his water halfway across the room, coughing as he stared up at Valentino in complete shock. What the actual fuck was he talking about? 

“Val, are ya – um, did ya take anythin’ tonight?” 

“What?” Val frowned down at him, “No. I’m serious.” 

“But – but –“ Angel had to practically sit on his hands to keep them from shaking. “What about Mista Vox?” 

“Tch.” Valentino shook his head slowly. “I’m done with that bargain bin trash heap.” 

_More like he’s done with you, probably_ , Angel thought. “Gee, Val, I dunno, don’tcha wanna spend some time enjoyin’ bein’ single, then? I mean, I ain’t exactly – “ 

Angel squeaked as Val took his cheeks in his hands, turning his face up towards him, gently stroking the fluff on his cheek with a thumb. “Ain’t exactly what? You bein’ seein’ someone?” 

“No, no, no,” Angel said, pulling his face away. He knew better than that. He wasn’t allowed to have boyfriends. 

“So what, then?” 

“I mean, I ain’t exactly… the best, uh – I mean… ain’t there anyone else?” 

Val raised an eyebrow at him. “Would I be talking to you right now if there was?” 

“I just – I don’t – _why_?” 

“What does it matter, why?” Valentino asked. “Don’t you think it’d be nice, you on my arm as my main bitch, not my whore or employee?” 

Angel blinked slowly at the end of that sentence. “…What about the contract.” 

Valentino shrugged, stubbing out his first cigarette and lighting another. “I dunno. I guess we could renegotiate if ya say yes to dating for real. Kinda tacky to have your S.O. on the end of a contract, right?” 

Angel rubbed at one arm, his head spinning. One the one hand, freedom from his contract. On the other, dating Val. In public. On _purpose_. Neither option felt great – even if he agreed to the renegotiation of the contract, it felt like he’d be trading one collar for a shinier one. 

“Can… can I think about it?” 

Val snorted. “What’s to think about?” 

Angel rubbed at his head. “I’m just tired. An’ I gotta think about that PR fuckin’ thing tomorrow, I – I’ll have an answer for ya tomorrow, okay, Val?” 

“Fine, whatever.” Valentino stood up, heading for the door. “But don’t think too long, Angel-Cakes. You might get a headache.” 

Angel waited for him to leave before flopping back on his bed. He wished Fat Nuggets were here – he could do with some piggy snuggles while he weighed his options, but he’d opted to leave his pet at the hotel for the evening. 

He flung his hands over his eyes as he tried to think. Either way, Val won, so there was already that to contend with. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being bound to the moth via his contact, but the thought of actually, publicly dating him made Angel want to puke. Not to mention what Charlie and Vaggie would have to say about that. Plus Vox would probably rip his head from his body if he ever found out who Valentino was attempting to rebound with. 

Angel sighed as he got up and stripped the covers off his bed, tossing them in a heap before laying back down on the bare mattress and nuzzling his head into the pillow. He’d get one of the studio interns to launder the bedding tomorrow but he couldn’t be bothered to try and find them right now. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he came to a final decision. It wasn’t an easy decision, but he knew for sure it was the right one. 

\--- 

Angel was waiting for Val once the PR interview was over and the camera crew from the news station had packed up and left. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the moth barged into his dressing room, and he was right – in fact, it only took twenty minutes. 

“Well?” Val asked, leaning against the wall. 

Angel stood, reaching for the velvet box and pressing it back into Val’s hands, registering the surprised expression on his boss’ face. 

“Thanks for the necklace, Val, it was real pretty, but maybe ya can wear it instead. The answer… the answer’s…” Jesus fucking Christ, he was tougher than this, why did he feel like he was going to turn into jelly at any moment? “The answer’s no. I’ll just stay under contract. S’betta that way.” 

Val narrowed his eyes at him. “Seriously?” 

“Ya said it was my choice, right?” 

Val frowned at him, rubbing his thumb up and down the velvet box before tossing it back on the bed. “Whatever. Have it. I always thought you were dumber than ya looked and I guess I was right. Take that fuckin’ trash necklace as a consolation prize or whatever.” He paused, checking his phone as it went off, before tentatively answering. “Voxxy?” 

Angel let out a breath as Valentino left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Angel pushed it closed instead, carefully locking it before he slid down it, gripping shaking hands in his hair. 

Crisis averted.


	2. Charlie and Vaggie

Vaggie stumbled as she tried to move her arms from Charlie’s drunken vice-like grip to get the door to their room open. Charlie herself wasn’t helping, giggling like a helpless maniac, barely able to stand on her own two feet. 

“Vaggiiiieee,” Charlie snickered as Vaggie fumbled with the keys. “Guess – ha ha ha, guess – guess what!” 

“What, Charlie,” Vaggie muttered, finally inserting the key into the lock and turning it, held back by Charlie literally trying to climb up her to whisper in her ear. 

“I love yooouuu.” 

“I love you too, hun,” Vaggie said, dragging the princess into the bedroom, “Now let’s get you some water and into bed, huh? Lightweight.” 

Charlie drew back with a gasp, eyes huge. “Lightweight? I’m not – not a – that thing you said!” 

“Mhm, sure,” Vaggie said, dumping Charlie onto the bed, kneeling down to tug the princess’ shoes off. 

“I’m not!” Charlie pouted. 

Vaggie shook her head. “I knew I should’ve told those imps not to overserve you.” 

They’d been out on a date – dinner, dancing, and drinks, the best that Hell could provide for each. They’d gone in the first place because Charlie had been getting a bit depressed over the state of the hotel – that is, the lack of interested patrons besides Angel. She’d leapt at the chance to go out when Vaggie suggested it, but the moth hadn’t expected her to hit the alcohol quite so hard. Or that it would hit her back, apparently. 

Vaggie herself had had a few drinks, but apparently, was much better at holding her liquor than the princess whose shoes she was currently struggling to tug off. She’d only seen Charlie this drunk a handful of times, and it usually went a certain way. At least she wasn’t sobbing and accusing Vaggie of being mad at her for some imagined thing yet. If Vaggie could just get her girlfriend into bed, she could avoid the worst of it. 

“You’re so pretty,” Charlie slurred, reaching out to pet Vaggie’s hair. “Kiss me.” 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, setting the shoes aside and kneeling up to plant a kiss on Charlie’s forehead, getting a whine out of the princess. She knew that wasn’t what she wanted, but she wasn’t about to start swapping spit when Charlie was this far gone. 

“Just lay down, Charlie,” Vaggie said. “I’ll get some water. Where’d you put your pajamas?” 

“Nooo…” Charlie crawled to the end of the bed and flopped off, staggering to her feet. “I gotta… I gotta use the bathroom!” 

“Fine, go,” Vaggie said, watching her totter into the en-suite bathroom before turning to open their drawers, looking for Charlie’s nightgown. She winced as she heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. 

“…Charlie? Hun? You okay…?” 

No answer, just more retching and the sound of something splashing into water. With a sigh, Vaggie tossed the nightgown she’d just pulled out aside, and headed over to the bathroom, pushing the door open to find Charlie on her knees in front of the toilet. 

“Shit,” Vaggie said, moving down to hold Charlie’s hair back, “If you weren’t a demon I’d say you’d be feeling this one for days.” 

Once Charlie finished, she turned to press herself into Vaggie. “You’re so nice to me… why’re you so nice…” she pushed herself up, trying to kiss the moth, Vaggie laughing and pushing her back. 

“Ew, gross, Charlie! You just barfed everywhere! I’m definitely not kissing you after that!” 

Charlie hiccupped, her eyes growing wide and shiny. Oh no. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No, hun, I’m not mad at you,” Vaggie said, her hands out in a placating gesture, hoping to nip this particular non-existent problem in the bud before it even began. “Let’s just get you to bed, okay?” 

Tears dripped down Charlie’s flushed cheeks as Vaggie slid an arm around her and pulled her to her feet. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No!” Vaggie insisted. “Now come on – one foot in front of the other, you can do it – “ 

“You sound mad!” 

“I’m not mad! Move your feet!” 

Charlie’s knees buckled and she swayed, grabbing onto Vaggie’s shoulders and just hanging there. The floodgates were starting to open, Vaggie could see the tears multiplying. “Please don’t be mad, Vaggie, I –“ A sudden sob, “I love you so much!” 

“I’m not – for Lucifer’s sake,” Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose before slipping an arm around Charlie’s waist and hoisting her up. “I think you’re pretty too and I love you too, okay? Now just get. In. the. Bed.” 

Finally she was able to drag Charlie across the few feet from the bathroom to their bed, sitting her on the edge and taking up the nightgown she’d pulled out. “Arms up.” 

Charlie complied with a giggle, the tears suddenly gone. A deep hum came from her throat as Vaggie unbuttoned her girlfriend’s jacket and started to slide her shirt off. “Oooh, are you gonna ravage me?” 

“What – oh my god,” Vaggie groaned, “You’ve been reading those books Angel gave you, haven’t you?” She shook her head, slipping the nightgown over Charlie’s head, kneeling down to yank her trousers off and pull the skirt of the nightgown down. “Sorry to disappoint, your highness, but you’ll just have to wait ‘til you’re sober.” 

“That’ll be forever!” 

“Yeah, I definitely have no idea what forever feels like right now,” Vaggie said dryly. “Lay down.” 

Charlie petulantly flopped back with a huff, crossing her arms. Vaggie pushed at her until she was on her side of the bed, pulling the blankets up over her, tucking them in. “There.” She leaned down to give Charlie a quick peck on the cheek, “Goodnight, hun. Sleep well, though with how fucked up you are right now I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.” 

The blonde didn’t answer, and Vaggie figured she’d finally passed out. Well, good. 

Vaggie carefully tiptoed around the room as she got ready for bed herself, changing into pajamas and removing the bow from her hair before wiggling in next to Charlie, letting out a sigh as she pulled the blankets up over herself. It had been a pretty fun night in all, even if it did end up with her having to take care of an emotionally overwrought drunken girlfriend. 

She smiled softly into the pillow, trying not to chuckle. Even when Charlie was completely blasted she was cute. She almost wished she’d thought of taking some video. 

As if Charlie could hear Vaggie thinking about her, the moth felt Charlie shift against her, most likely trying to get more comfortable in her sleep. At least, that’s what she thought, until she felt the princess’ lips tickling against her ear to slur a whisper. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“I swear to Lucifer, I’m about to be if you don’t _lay back down_!”


	3. Angel and Alastor

“Hold it.” 

A shadowy tendril wrapped around Angel’s waist, lifting him off the ground and making him kick his feet in the air. 

“Hey! C’mon, Al, you must be kiddin’,” Angel said, wriggling in the shadow’s grip as it suspended him there, still grasping the doorknob of his bedroom door. 

“You’re the one who decided to concuss yourself and break your arm in the most ludicrous way possible,” Alastor said, watching with half-lidded eyes from his seat in an armchair next to Angel’s bed. “Bed rest is the only thing for it. You’re not to leave this bed until you’ve fully healed. Even Charlie agreed, though I suspect that’s more to keep you out of her hair for a few hours.” 

“It wasn’t the most ‘ludicrous’ way possible,” Angel pouted as the shadow transported him across the room and deposited him gently in the bed before pulling the covers up. Alastor raised an eyebrow at him, and he huffed, “It wasn’t!” 

“So you weren’t intending to impress your friend Cherri –“ 

“Seriously, Al, we don’t hafta do a play-by-play –“ 

“By sneaking up on an intended mugging target from above –“ 

“I’m gonna regret telling ya this, aren’t I –“ 

“Only to lose your balance on the rail and fall, discovering your intended target was in fact –“ 

“Al – “ 

“A mailbox.” 

Angel groaned, flopping back into his pillows. “Look, acid’s a hell of a drug, okay? What’d Charlie say about it?” 

“I already told you,” Alastor shrugged his shoulders. “She agreed with me that bed rest is the best way for you to heal quickly.” 

“No, I mean about the acid.” 

“I didn’t deem it necessary to tell her about that.” 

Angel perked up, raising an eyebrow at Alastor. “Really? No snitchin’ on me?” 

Alastor gestured at the arm that was currently resting in a sling against Angel’s chest, “I believe you’ve suffered the consequences of your actions enough for today, yes?” 

“Specially if I’m stuck in this fuckin’ bed all damn day. And it’s my day off, too.” 

“Count yourself lucky you’re a demon and should heal perfectly well by tomorrow,” Alastor said. “If you were still human, it could take six weeks or so.” 

“Can ya at least toss me my phone?” 

“Your device is currently dead. I had Niffty put it on the charger downstairs for you.” 

Angel groaned, flopping back and pounding his three good arms on the bed, “There’s nothing to do!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, my dear, there’s plenty to do,” Alastor said, going back to the book he’d rested on his knee. 

“Oh yeah, like what?” Angel’s eyes rested on the cover of Alastor’s book. “Pride and Prejudice, huh? Yeah, I guess Austen’s okay. I woulda thought Northanger Abbey woulda been more your style though, what with a big ol’ creep hiding some dame in an attic.” 

“I never imprisoned anyone,” Alastor protested. “They were always dead before they arrived to my abode.” 

“Yeah, that makes it way better,” Angel smirked. “Hey, just outta curiosity, how many people didja kill when you were alive, anyway?” 

“Hmm…” Alastor put his book down to tap his chin thoughtfully for a moment, “Well, successfully killed, about fifteen, although there was that fellow who got away. He died later in the woods, but I hardly count that a success of mine.” 

“Oh…” Angel bit his lip, looking away as he picked at the covers. Alastor raised a brow at him. 

“Oh? Oh, what?” 

“Nothin’, nothin’!” Angel held up his hands, “That’s, uh… yeah. Fifteen’s real impressive, Al. Really. Ain’t nothin’ compared to a coupla mob hits, but hey, ya were workin’ alone, that ain’t your fault…” 

Alastor cocked his head, trying to work out if Angel was kidding or not. “Are you _disappointed_ in my apparent lack of killing prowess as compared to a bunch of brainless thugs ‘whacking’ everybody they see? I’ll have you know I chose my victims very carefully, not willy-nilly all over the place –“ 

“Okay, okay!” Angel couldn’t help but laugh, “Ya don’t have ta get jealous, damn.” 

“I am not _jealous_.” 

“Sure. Why don’tcha go back to ya book, jealous-boy.” 

The radio static that usually surrounded Alastor screeched a little. “You know, I would usually tear a demon limb from limb for speaking to me like that.” 

“Good thing I got extra limbs then,” Angel stuck his tongue out, and Alastor relaxed back into his chair, the tension in the room dissipating immediately. 

“So which Darcy d’ya like better? Colin Firth or Laurence Olivier?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Neither, ‘cause you refuse to see movies ever?” 

“Actually,” Alastor looked at him over the top of his book, “I did enjoy Laurence Olivier’s performance. I have absolutely no idea who Colin Firth is. Just because I loathe today’s modern claptrap doesn’t mean I’ve never seen a film.” 

“I just can’t imagine ya in a theater,” Angel admitted. “You’d probably be that jerk shushin’ everyone.” 

“Am I to guess you are usually the one who needs ‘shushing’?” 

“Eh,” Angel shrugged. “It’s Hell. Everyone who talks in a movie theater is here anyway.” 

Alastor glanced down at his book, then back up to appraise Angel, “Are you quite comfortable? Does your arm hurt?” 

“It does, but I’ve had way worse,” Angel said. “I’m mostly just bored. And… cold.” 

“Cold?” Alastor frowned, “Do you need more blankets? I can have Niffty –“ 

“Not that kinda cold,” Angel smirked, “Just the kinda cold that can only go away with a li’l company. Ya wanna hop in here wit’ me?” 

Another screech from Alastor. “Angel… I’m not sure…” 

“C’mon, Al, nothin’ crazy. Not even cuddlin’, if ya don’t wanna.” Angel lifted up Fat Nuggets, who’d joined him on the bed, “Me an’ Nuggies are lonely.” 

Alastor let out a sigh, closing his paperback for good and standing, hesitating for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Good start,” Angel said. “Now, lift your legs up and put them on the bed.” 

Alastor did so, looking decidedly uncomfortable, but at least he was on the bed. Angel beamed as the bed dipped down with the extra weight, letting go of Nuggets so the pig could snuffle around their new guest. 

“That’s better,” Angel yawned, eyelids growing heavy. 

“If you’re tired, you should sleep,” Alastor said, “The painkillers Charlie gave you did say on the label they might cause weariness. You might heal faster as well – being already dead I suppose we don’t have to worry about keeping you awake to ensure the concussion didn’t do lasting damage.” 

“Nah, I wanna keep talkin’, I’m learnin’ so much new stuff about ya!” Angel said. He surreptitiously scooted a little closer to the deer demon, “Hey, ya think any of those old writers are down here? I mean, prob’ly not Austen, I’m guessin’ she was squeaky clean, but maybe like… Byron’s gotta be down here, right? I’m sure he was up to shady shit all the time.” 

“A curious thought,” Alastor said. “I have yet to run into any famed authors, though of course with our twisted demon bodies it may be hard to tell, especially if they keep a low profile.” 

“ ‘Twisted demon bodies’?” Angel snorted, “Now who’s bein’ dramatic? I like this body. I can climb up walls.” 

“Not very well, apparently.” 

“Watch it, busta.” 

“I am impressed you know so much about literature. A bit surprised, even.” 

“What’s surprisin’?” Angel shrugged, “I went ta school, an’ it’s not like there’s much else ta do when you’re waitin’ around for a hit target to show up. Used to read a lot, actually. Kinda feels like there ain’t time anymore.” He looked wistfully at Alastor’s abandoned paperback. “I used to try to read in between shoots on set in the studio, but Val didn’t like it. Made me look like I wasn’t interested in the work and not gettin’ my scene partners all hot an’ bothered enough in between takes. I stopped bringin’ em after he ripped a buncha pages outta Persuasion. Then… I dunno. The drugs sorta make it hard ta concentrate on the old timey language like that. The words kinda swim around.” 

“I see.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a shadow deposited his book into his hand. “You said you didn’t mind Austen, I take it, considering you owned a copy of Persuasion?” 

Angel nodded, “More of a Bronte fan, actually, but I’ll take Austen any day, too. Bitch sure knows how to write a slow-burn.” 

“Very well.” Alastor flipped to the front of the book, “We shall start at the beginning, then.” 

Angel blinked at him. “Huh?” 

“You said it’s hard to concentrate when you read the words yourself. There should be no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy me reading it to you.” 

“You – you’re gonna read to me?” 

“Are you against it?” 

“No,” Angel said with a soft smile, slipping down his pillows to make himself comfortable, his head just an inch from Alastor’s elbow, “No, I don’t. Go ahead.” 

Alastor read for the better half of an hour, slowing when he started to notice Angel’s eyes slipping closed, the spider desperately trying to keep them open against the painkillers and ultimately failing. “You’re strange, Al,” Angel muttered as sleep finally claimed him, “But I like ya.” 

Alastor stared down at him, waiting for his breathing to deepen. Once it did, he put the book down, hovering his hand over Angel’s hair, his fingertips just brushing the soft fur. “I enjoy you too, Angel,” he said softly. “Most ardently.”


	4. Stolas and Stella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight CW for intoxicated intercourse

The Goetia family reunion was going grandly. Stolas was having a _magnificent_ time, he told himself as he took another swig of wine from the crystal glass he held. He _loved_ being surrounded by extended members of his royal family as they spilled out into the grassy grounds of his mansion, milling around and eating canapes dutifully served by imp butlers. He’d already checked his phone three times to see if Blitzo had responded to his Voxtagram post, but the imp hadn’t. Perhaps he was busy – he did work _so_ hard, after all. Even if the picture Stolas had posted was pure thirst posting. 

“Stolas!” 

The prince turned as a grey-feathered grand-uncle whose name he couldn’t even begin to remember stepped up to him. He frantically racked his brain for the name, but couldn’t come up with one, and the precious seconds for a proper greeting were fizzling short. “How _are_ you… old… bean,” he settled on, flashing a winning smile. 

“Just grand,” the old bird nodded, “Why, I haven’t seen you since your wedding. And just how is Stella?” 

“She’s just wonderful,” Stolas said, trying to force his jaw from clenching at his wife’s name. He’d barely seen her today, as she’d busied herself with ensuring the preparations for the reunion were going as they should, but as he peered over the heads of wandering Goetias he could just about make her out at the standing bar. 

“And you have a little fledgling now, too, is that right?” 

“Oh yes, quite,” Stolas said, using his upper eyes to keep an eye on Stella at the bar even as he focused on the grand-uncle with his lower ones. If she got drunk and started making a scene, they’d be a laughing-stock amongst the Hell-born royalty. More than they already were, anyway – Stolas was well aware of the rumors that flew around Hell about him. “She’s quite a bit more than a fledgling, now, though – nearly a fully grown young woman. I’m very proud of her.” 

That, at least, was true. If Stolas had to endure this reunion, at the very least it provided some good company for Octavia in the form of her cousins. Stolas had been thinking she should be spending some more quality time with Hell-borns her own age, and this provided a perfect opportunity. She and Celestia, a cousin close to her age, had disappeared into her room to listen to music ages ago. 

“Well…” Stolas said, feeling awkward as the polite conversation petered out. “I… suppose I should…” 

“Dad!” 

Stolas nearly breathed a sigh of relief right into the grand-uncle’s face. Nothing like his own daughter getting him out of an etiquette predicament. “Excuse me, if you would, Via is calling me.” 

The grey bird mumbled his own excuses and wandered off in search of someone else’s ear to talk off as Octavia ran up to him, breathless, a rare smile on her face. “Dad, Celestia invited me over to her house to sleep over. Can I? Please?” 

“Did you ask your mother?” 

The smile faded, and Octavia mumbled something that sounded like “She said to ask you.” 

“It’s all right with me,” Stolas nodded. “Just be sure to text when you’re ready to be picked up tomorrow, okay, starfire?” 

Octavia was already running away to tell her cousin the good news. “Okay, thanks, Dad!” She yelled over her shoulder. 

Stolas watched her go with a fond smile, it fading quickly as he took in Stella still at the bar. He wandered over to her, clearing his throat, “Darling, we are hosting this event. Should you be drinking so much?” 

“Should you?” Stella asked, gesturing to the wine glass he held. 

Stolas sighed, “Stella – “ 

“Stella, what?” The lighter colored bird stared down at her drink. There was no malice in her words – if anything, they were sad. 

“Nothing,” Stolas said, leaning on the bar next to her. “Perhaps I’ll join you. Another glass of wine, please, bartender.” He downed the one he currently held in one gulp, accepting the new one from the imp behind the bar. 

Stella held hers up. “To absolutely, awfully boring family get-togethers.” 

Stolas couldn’t help the little chuckle as he clinked his glass against hers. “To boring get-togethers.” 

\--- 

Stolas lost count of how many glasses of wine they went through – they’d probably at least polished off five bottles at this point, and even he was starting to feel a little tipsy. It sort of felt nice. Stella had stayed at his side, matching him drink for drink. If any of the other Goetias noticed or cared, nobody said anything about it. 

Soft strains of music floated through the garden as the hired band began their set for the evening. Stolas blinked at his wife, awash in the red light of the Pentagram going down – he’d almost forgotten how beautiful she could be. “…Would you care to dance?” 

Stella hesitated for a second before putting her hand in his, allowing him to guide her to the small part of the garden that had been sectioned off as a dance floor. She stepped closer to him as he guided her in a waltz, surprisingly smooth considering how drunk they both were. She took her hand from his shoulder, patting his face as she stared up at him. “I forgot how dark your feathers are. They’re cute.” 

“Thank you, darling,” Stolas said, moving her around another couple. “I must say, you picked a splendid outfit for the occasion.” 

“Mm…” Stella said, “Do you remember when you and I used to wear matching outfits, every day?” 

“Goodness, _yes_ ,” Stolas laughed. “How ridiculous we were.” 

“I don’t think we’ve danced in a long time. Have we?” 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I don’t think… I don’t think since before Via.” 

“Unfortunate. I rather like dancing.” 

Stella rested her head in his chest feathers with a tired sigh. “I love dancing.” 

\--- 

The evening continued on. Stolas and Stella danced two more waltzes and split two more bottles of champagne before they returned to the gate of their mansion to do their royal duty and say goodbye to their leaving guests. Fireflies hung lazily in the air around them as Stella made a proper curtsy to the last guests as they stepped into their waiting limos. Once they were around the corner, she let out a huge sigh. 

“Another yearly reunion finished. Where is Via?” 

“She went to sleep over at Celestia’s. I said it was all right,” Stolas answered. 

Stella nodded, covering a yawn. “She could stand to spend some time with other birds her own age.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Stolas said, offering his arm. “Shall we?” 

“We shall,” Stella smiled, the two drunkenly stumbling across the gardens back into their mansion and up the stairs to the living quarters. 

Stolas removed his arm as soon as they made it to the landing. Stella hadn’t slept in their room – in their bed – for a long time. Not since she found out about Blitzo being in their bed. She had her own royal apartments on the opposite side of the hallway. “I had rather enjoyable evening.” 

“Mm, so did I,” Stella said, leaning against the rail, watching him. 

“Well then… good night,” Stolas said, turning to go into his room. 

“Stolas.” 

The desire in the word hit him like a freight train. Stella hadn’t spoken to him like that in – well – at least a decade. He barely had time to turn back and face her before she was all over him, hands running down his body, mouth desperately seeking his. 

He squirmed a little, “Stella – wait –“ _Oh_. He’d forgotten her hand could do _that_. “….Let’s use your room.” 

\--- 

Stolas yawned, stretched, and squinted as he slowly awakened in Stella’s bed. His wife was turned away from him, one hand over her face. Carefully, he reached for his phone, sitting on the nightstand. Still no response from Blitzo. Damn. He put it back, returning his gaze to Stella. 

He did feel conflicted about what had happened the previous night – what he could remember of it, anyway. He and Stella hadn’t truly been together in an age, and it had all felt so… new. But she’d been drunk, he’d been drunk… still… maybe it was a start to building a bridge. They had to start somewhere, after all. 

Stella shifted, moving her hand from her face and sitting up. Her feathers were mussed, and she looked exhausted. Stolas gave her a smile anyway. 

“Good morning, Stella! What shall we do for breakfast? I’ve heard potatoes and eggs can do wonders for a hangover – “ 

Stella winced, groaning, flopping back face first onto the bed and pulling the pillow over her head. Stolas frowned. 

“Stella? Are you feeling all right?” 

“No. I’m hungover as fuck.” 

“I imagined as much. But still, food might –“ 

“I don’t want food. I want you to go.” 

Stolas paused. “…Pardon?” 

Stella sighed, sitting back up again, facing away from him with the pillow on her lap. She picked at the cover as she spoke. “Last night was a mistake, Stolas. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Darling, I – “ 

“Don’t ‘darling’ me!” Stella turned to glare at him. “One fuck and you suddenly think we’re newlyweds again? You think that erases what you did? I – ugh!” She threw the pillow on the ground, running her fingers through her feathers, trying to straighten them out. “It was a mistake. A big, stupid, mistake. Just like marrying you.” 

She bit her lip at that, as if suddenly realizing how cruel her words were. She kept her eyes on the ground, avoiding his wounded gaze. “I’d like you to leave my room, please, so I can get ready. I’m going to stay at my sister’s tonight.” She looked up, her gaze traveling to where Stolas’ phone lay on the nightstand, finally lighting up with a response from Blitzo. “It is a full moon tonight, after all.” 

“Stella, please, we should at least talk about –“ 

“I don’t want to talk.” Stella stood up, the cold demeanor that she had grown into in the past few years settling over her again. “I would like you to leave.” 

Stolas let out a deep sigh. “As you wish.” 

Slowly, he gathered his phone and his clothes, pulling on a bathrobe that one of the imp butlers had helpfully hung over the door for him as he trudged into the hallway, wincing as the door slammed shut behind him. 

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to see Octavia’s name at the top of it. He closed his eyes for a second before swiping to answer, putting on the cheeriest tone he could manage. “Good _morning_ , Via! How _was_ your sleepover? Tell me _all_ about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Stolas to bits but I kind of feel bad for Stella. Her husband cheated on her, in their bed, and everyone was calling her a bitch for reacting angrily. I mean, I would've been mad too! I like to think they either got married when they were really young or had an arranged marriage and are staying together for appearances or for Via or both. Anyway, I think they're intriguing and wanted to explore a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated, and if you want to you can follow me at @Xingshou1 on Twitter.


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